Chapter 8: What Marcus Knew
"Who followed you?" I moved away from the back fence, toward the far end of the garden where the signal was clearer.
"A man I didn't recognize," Marcus said.
"Older.
Maybe late fifties.
He knew my name.
He asked me how Ryan was doing, said he was a family friend, said he'd heard there'd been some drama at the party."
My hand tightened on the phone.
"What did he look like?"
"Tall.
Gray at the temples.
Drove a dark blue sedan, nice one.
He gave me a card." A pause.
"Mrs.
Linda, the name on the card is David Holt."
The garden went very quiet.
"Did you say anything to him?"
"I said I didn't know him and I got in my car.
But he — before I closed the door, he said something." Marcus hesitated.
"He said, *Tell Ryan his father is proud of him for trying to think big.
Tell him the apple doesn't fall far.*"
I sat down on the garden bench without meaning to.
"Mrs.
Linda?
Are you there?"
"I'm here." My voice came out steady.
I was grateful for that.
"Marcus, thank you for calling me.
Don't respond to him if he contacts you again.
Don't give him anything — not Ryan's number, not our address, nothing."
"Of course.
Is Ryan okay?"
"He will be." I paused.
"Marcus — what you did last night.
Standing up in front of everyone.
That was a hard thing to do."
"He's my friend," Marcus said simply.
"I wasn't going to watch him wreck himself."
After I hung up, I sat in the garden for a long time.
*The apple doesn't fall far.*
He had sent that message to be passed on.
He wanted Ryan to hear it.
He wanted Ryan to feel seen by him — recognized, validated — precisely at the moment when Ryan was most ashamed of himself.
That was not a coincidence.
That was a move.
I went inside.
Ryan was in the living room, phone in hand, not looking at it.
He looked up when I came in.
"Marcus called me too," he said quietly.
"Just now."
"What did Marcus tell you?"
"Everything." He set the phone down on the cushion beside him.
"The apple doesn't fall far." He said it without expression.
"That's what he said."
"Yes."
"He wanted me to feel like he understood me.
Like he was the only one who wouldn't judge me for last night."
"That's what I think too."
Ryan looked at the ceiling for a moment.
"He's good at it."
"He's had a long time to practice."
"What do I do?"
I sat down across from him.
"What do you want to do?"
"Part of me wants to meet him.
Just to see." He looked at me.
"Is that stupid?"
"It's human," I said.
"He's your father.
Wanting to see him isn't the same as trusting him."
"But you don't want me to."
"I want you to go in with your eyes open.
I want you to know what he is before you sit across from him." I leaned forward.
"He heard about last night and his first move was to find Marcus in a parking lot in the dark and send you a message about thinking big.
That is who he is, Ryan.
That is the move of someone who is not here to be your father.
He's here because he thinks you're like him, and he wants to use that."
Ryan's jaw tightened.
"Use it how?"
"I don't know yet.
But I know the pattern."
He was quiet for a long time.
Then he said, "I want to reply to his message.
From your phone.
I want to be the one who replies."
I looked at him carefully.
"What are you going to say?"
"I'm going to say yes.
May you like
I'm going to agree to meet him." He met my eyes.
"And then I'm going to bring Barbara."
